


Dwarf-friend

by Alizha



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: F/M, Original Character(s), POV Original Character, Reader-Insert
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-01-31
Updated: 2015-01-31
Packaged: 2018-03-09 19:16:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,679
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3261284
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Alizha/pseuds/Alizha
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You are Miriel, a Silvan elf from the Woodland Realm. When King Thranduil turns away from aiding the dwarves of Erebor, you find that you cannot.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dwarf-friend

**Author's Note:**

> This story is based on this post on ImaginexHobbit:
> 
> Imagine ignoring King Thranduil when he tells the army to turn back when Smaug is attacking and becoming the only elf Thorin trusts (http://imaginexhobbit.tumblr.com/post/102908492494/imagine-ignoring-king-thranduil-when-he-tell-the)

That day, you had traded your leather armor for steel. In the Elven guard, you customarily wore leather for its flexibility in navigating through the trees. The rocky terrain surrounding Erebor was as new and unfamiliar to you as the steel armor. Though its fine craftsmanship made it just as light was the leather, it was constricting in comparison.

Ahead, the massive Mountain loomed above you and the rest of the King's army. Below, terror reigned. The sounds of screaming churned your stomach not for fear but for anticipation. Your eyes were assaulted by the scene of suffering, yet you could not easily tear them away. The dwarves were bursting from the mouth of the Mountain, their beards singed.

They were rather surprisingly fast sprinters, and many of them were breaking as far away as they could. Some, not many, risked to slow their pace in order to wave frantically up at the elves standing at attention by Ravenhill. Their urgency evoked your passion, and you found that you had the ability to now shift your glance.

To Thranduil, you looked for a command, but the king did not give one. At least, he did not give the command you were expecting. He was turning around his steed and his army with it. Confusion and something like anger roiled inside of you. Other elves turned and cast strange looks at you as they passed by, but you could only stand frozen in place.

"Miriel," came the quietly composed but stern voice of the king from behind you.

" _Hîr nín_ Thranduil," you breathed, not trusting your voice not to betray you.

"Erebor is lost, but your life is not so."

"But the dwarves-" your voice faltered slightly, and you drew a sharp breath. You could not turn away while the fire-drake destroyed thousands of lives.

"Miriel," the king said more firmly this time.

It was then that you realized your heart beating wildly in your chest. Your knees had been bent slightly, ready to spring forward. Your hand had tightened its grip on your bow. You were ready to charge in and do what you could to help the dwarves, knowing in your heart it was the right thing to do. But you knew it could mean banishment from the Woodland Realm. No, it  _did_ mean banishment. Suddenly, though, it was too late.

"No, Miriel!" Thranduil called after you.

Headfirst, you had launched yourself down the hill, the heat of the dragon's breath distinguishable even as you approached the ground. The sound of your blood thumping in your ears dulled the sounds of screaming as you fought your way through the throng of fleeing dwarves. Indeed they were shorter than you, but they were of stockier build and perhaps as much strength. You gave up on fighting against them and leaped through them instead, with great difficulty considering your steel armor, finally making your way into the mountain.

Your breath catches in your throat the moment you laid eyes on Smaug. Yes, you had expected him to be large, but he was more enormous than you had ever imagined. The beast was being baited into a corner by a group of dwarves, allowing for a clear path for the rest to escape, but they were clearly running out of room. Realizing this, you acted quickly, racing toward the other end of the hall, shoving dwarves as you went.

"Get out of here!" you yelled at these stragglers, scurrying up onto the fallen remains of a column. You drew an arrow and aimed it at the dragon.

"What are you doing Elf?" shouted a deep rough voice.

Startled, you let your arrow fly, losing it to the stone ceiling. You whirled on the dwarf who addressed you. He had a dark mane and a matching singed beard framing a face with so much hostility it was as if you were the one attacking his home, not the dragon. Almost immediately, you forgot your compassion. In one fluid motion, you had an arrow drawn and aimed at the dwarf, seething right back at him.

"Helping you," you snarled. The dwarf looked fleetingly taken aback, but he responded by raising his broadsword to your throat so quickly that you could only gasp in surprise.

"Why are you helping us?" he said through gritted teeth. There came a loud roar from the dragon as you slowly lowered your weapon.

"Because you need it," you said before dropping your gaze.

The dwarf followed the look down to where you managed to hold a dagger to his gut. He let out a soft growl and removed his sword from your throat, not daring to take his eyes off your threat. When you pulled back and sheathed the dagger at last, the dwarf turned his attention to Smaug.

"We must draw him near," he said.

Your eyes flitted around for an idea when you noticed the loosened column beside the dragon. This time your arrow was shot, your aim was true. It hit the crack in the column with just enough force to topple it over onto the dragon's tail. The beast let out a cry and turned, looking around for the cause of his pain.

"Good thinking," the dwarf beside you said. "Can you get its attention on me?"

You nodded once, drawing and shooting a new arrow up at the ceiling. A large piece of greenish rock fell and smashed before you and the dwarf. The dragon fixated on the sound, and sure enough, he had his eyes focused upon you both. The dwarf was drawing himself up to full height, his sword pointed at the fire-drake.

"The next king under the mountain will be me! Not you, worm!" he bellowed. The dragon seemed affected by these words, but you didn't notice. You could only stare at the dwarf in disbelief.

"Are you Thorin, son of Thrain?" you said.

"Look out!" Thorin shouted, lunging at you and knocking you both over the edge of the rock you stood upon as a stream of fire hurtled toward you both.

As soon as the heat of the fire passed, you peered over the rock at the fire-drake, nocking an arrow in preparation. With a yell, you leaped up and shot the arrow at the beast's eye, but with a beat of his wing, the arrow broke and you were propelled backward by its wind. Then, Thorin threw himself out before the dragon, swinging his sword menacingly. The dragon was taking the bait and drawing near. You could see the once-trapped dwarves quietly making for the mouth of the mountain.

"Over here, scum!" Thorin shouted.

"Thorin, we have to get out of here!" you said, struggling to your feet.

You grabbed a hold of the dwarf's collar. He swung a large arm at you, eyes still on the dragon, but you narrowly dodged the blow. It seemed to have been only a reflex, as he turned to follow you while the dragon drew breath. The cracks in Smaug's chest lit up with the fire inside of him. Knowing Thorin was on your heels, you made a break for the entrance of the mountain as fast as your legs could take you, feeling the heat of the dragon's fire just behind you.

As the freshness of the outside air reached your lungs at last, Thorin let out a strangled yell as you felt him lunge at you again. You both hit the ground just as the dragon fire shot straight past you above. Steel armor dug into your skin. The thumping of blood was loud in your ears again as Thorin pulled you to your feet.

When you and the dwarves had finally put Erebor far behind you, the dwarves halted to take some rest. Thorin did not speak to you; he only gestured for you to follow him as he walked amongst his people. You kept your distance when he apparently found who he was looking for: a group of solemn-looking dwarves, some of whom you recognized from earlier being trapped in the corner by Smaug.

They spoke in low voices, and though Thorin's back was turned to you, the others occasionally sneaked a glance up at you. You felt slightly paranoid, but only needed reminded yourself that the dwarves had indeed just suffered a great tragedy, that dwarves were naturally suspicious of beings who were not dwarves, that you were an  _elf_ (of all things) standing in the midst of their grief. After a while, Thorin returned.

"I thank you, Thorin, son of Thrain," you said before he could speak. "You saved my life twice, although you are a Dwarf." You made yourself sound as sincere as you possibly could so your meaning could not be mistaken.

"And you have saved the lives of my kin even though you are an Elf," said Thorin. The softness of his voice now was dissonant to the rough voice he had first used in Erebor, which still rang clearly in your ears.

You dipped your head in a shallow bow in respect. "What will you do?"

"I do not know," Thorin replied, glancing over his shoulder at the others. When he turned back to you, he wore a pained expression.

" _Galu_ , Thorin. I wish you luck, wherever you go," you said. "I must take my leave." You offered him a small smile and another bow of your head before turning away.

"You return to the Woodland Realm?" asked Thorin.

"Yes," you answered, looking back at the dwarf prince.

"You will... be welcomed?" he said carefully, avoiding your eyes.

"I don't know," you said truthfully. "But it is my home."

Thorin seemed to contemplate this for a moment before nodding once in understanding. Elf or dwarf, home was a concept understood by all.

"Goodbye, then," Thorin said. "Wait! What is your name?"

"It is Miriel," you replied. "Though I fear you will have little use for it in your new home."

"Miriel. I will remember it," he said, resolve in his eyes, "for the day I return and reclaim my homeland."

**Author's Note:**

> Glossary:
> 
> Hîr nín - My lord  
> Galu - Good luck/goodbye


End file.
